have been anything else. He stopped breathing as well as moving.
After a long spell of silence, he continued to move his hand up the wall. He had to be very near.
A feeling that he was not alone in the room came suddenly and very clearly.
Again, he failed to hear any breathing. Just once he thought he could hear something but it sounded like a rustle, the origin of which he could not establish.
It was all too much for his nerves. He would turn on the light and have a look.
He swiftly slid his palm up along the wall, found the switch, put his hand on it and…
… paused for a moment.
Will I?
I will, he said to himself, taking the switch between his thumb and index finger.
I’ll turn it now.
A gentle palm lay on his hand.
Max felt his urine trickling down his thighs. He did not move, just pushed his head low between his shoulders.
Waiting for a blow. It did not come.
That gentle hand resting on his. He could hardly feel it, there was no pressure, he was sure it could not stop him moving his hand away. Again, he tried to make out somebody else’s breathing.
The waiting went on and on. The hand did not move. Max’s two fingers on the switch started to hurt.
He only had to turn them and he would see everything.
Was that what he really wanted? Or should he try to remove his hand and run for it? Very slowly, he started to move his fingers but the hand increased the pressure accordingly. It was still very gentle.
He did not dare go on.
“I give in,” he whispered but even that sounded piercingly loud.
“Please, please!”
There was no reply.
Do I really want to see, he asked himself. Do I?
I’ll turn on the light and what happens happens. He remembered Alfonz’s grinning face and changed his mind. He could not take that.
How much longer could he stand there, motionless?
What would his father do? He would grab that hand without a body, without a face, push it away, turn on the light and give whoever was there three good punches. Max bitterly and clearly realised for the first time that he was not his father. He did not have a book of prescriptions, a catalogue of solutions for every conceivable situation, which decision to take in every dilemma — you just turn the pages until you find the appropriate advice, clear and short so that you can read it in a hurry.
Would such a book describe the situation Max was in? You are standing in impenetrable darkness, holding the light switch with somebody else’s hand resting on yours. Gently and patiently.
He started crying without moving. He pleaded and begged.
Nothing happened. No ruin, no salvation. The urine had cooled down and his thighs began to feel cold.
He pulled himself together slowly, stopped crying and tried to make out as much as he could about that hand. It was small and papery. Yes, that was the right expression. It was not damp with sweat or smooth. He remembered from school — where was Raf? — that the pores in the skin excrete grease or something like that to make the skin smoother. That hand was not like that.
It was inevitable. He knew that sooner or later he would find out whose hand it was. It had to happen. It was just like going to a dentist, a visit he always delayed beyond the first aches right to the swelling and the puss. In the end he always gave in. Dentists were inevitable, just like this thing waiting for him in the darkness.
It was better to do it now than torturing himself endlessly.
He screamed and turned the switch.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Everything was red. Why was that?
It only took a split second before he realised that his eyes were closed and that they had probably been closed in the darkness, too. And then he thought that all the waiting and agonising would have to happen all over again before he opened his eyes. He overtook his thoughts: he had to ride on the wave of decisiveness, he could not afford to repeat all the suffering he had just been through.
He looked.
Another split second, a new wave of thoughts, events and observations.
In front of him stood a brat, a strangely funny brat who held his hand on Max’s with his eyes closed. Was he asleep standing up or what? He was wearing a black suit which looked shiny as if it had been waxed or something. And a bow tie! That was the last straw for Max. A bow tie!
That terrible creature because of which he had pissed himself was a brat with a bow tie!
The whole thing seemed terribly funny to Max. He laughed with relief. In the moment between his opening his mouth and the sound of his laughter actually coming out he caught the word uttered by the little boy:
“Mama?”
He sounded very disappointed as he was opening his eyes. Did he only just realise some terrible mistake?
Max was not just laughing, he was screaming. He was banging his forehead against the door, roaring. He noticed the boy’s large black eyes and that he did not open his mouth as he spoke, but it was all too funny and Max could not stop himself.
Laughing, he told the boy his name and when the boy thanked him politely
- without opening his mouth, HA!HAHAHAHAHA! -
Max bent double with laughter.
6
Ana made a decision. She would disobey her uncle and go to the village earlier. Straight away? She looked at the open drawer — yes, this was another thing she had started doing, rummaging through somebody else’s things. She was looking for an explanation but she found nothing. Maybe it was in the middle part of the cupboard, which was locked. There in the drawer lay only the reminders of her uncle’s life, which was filled with a single hobby: medal collecting. He had filled a whole box with them and they came from all parts of the world.
OK, so what did that tell her? Nothing. Nothing. She felt that this was one of those decisions she had to carry out without a mistake. Should she go straight away, or wait for the hour her uncle had stated in his letter? The more she hesitated, the nearer that time would be and soon no decision would be necessary. She wanted to do what was best and therefore she turned to God. She started to pray but could not finish the prayer. God told her to wait. Or was it just his representatives, those who spoke about respecting one’s elders and obeying orders? This was too much for her and she wished God had given her less free will.
To do nothing was doing something too and that was why she left without turning back.
The hand without a middle finger or a body, which was still holding the door handle on the inside of the shed, swayed gently.
Raf approached the shed and put his ear on the door. Silence. He began to open it very slowly and cautiously, just for an inch to begin with, just enough to have a look inside and then a bit more. There was nobody there. He noticed the collapsed back wall and the branches that had been trampled on.
He started to imagine Samo taking refuge in there and then noticing the back wall. The screams he had heard confirmed his theory but there was no body, which filled Raf with the hope that Samo had managed to escape.
Let’s hope so, he said to himself and closed the door.
A strong hand covered his mouth, another held his arm. They pressed him against the body behind him. Raf tried to scream and free himself from the embrace but he could not.
